A Not So Unlikely Encounter of the Late Night Variety
by AMiserableLove
Summary: Completely off the wall look into Jess' mind as she prepares for what she assumes is the ultimate showdown with Nick. Most likely a three-part story.
1. Final Countdown

**Um I'm not sure what this is. **

**I've been in a super snarky mood lately and I'm having a bit of a Nick Miller Injury crisis. So my romance meter is a bit down and out for now and Slow Burn is on the back-burner (again) for this little piece of...I don't know *snickers*.  
**

**The rating may change with the next chapter (should be finished in two or three more), but for now I'm leaving it at a strong T.  
**

**I'm sorry my attention span is all over the place, and maybe I should apologize ahead of time for the format of this sucker.  
**

**So sorry?  
**

**Review if you have the time, let me know if you think it's God-awful or slightly entertaining, if you want it continued or burned ;)  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own New Girl  
**

* * *

He's awake.

Sigh. Eye roll. Snarl. Glare. Fast heartbeat. Sigh again.

He's up and he's waiting for **ME.**

Yep, I'm almost positive of this even before I open the door to the loft. I'm aware of it even before I lay eyes on him. Oh he's in there alright, I know he is; he's most likely sitting in the living-room, pretending to zone out to some stupid ball game on TV, so it doesn't **_appear_** as if he's waiting for me. Oh no, he'd much prefer to hide behind that good old reliable television, than admit to what he's really up to.

**Side note-** What he's really up to, is waiting for his chance to lay into me about my whereabouts for the evening and why it is that I'm coming home so late (it IS going on 3:00 a.m.). **End side note.**

So yes I know he's there, sipping on his gross and bitter beer, dark eyes glazed, pout on his lips…

Waiting.

And knowing this I also realize that **WORLD WAR THREE** is about to begin.

**Another side-note—**While I'm not being literal here (OBVIOUSLY), I'll have you know, that neither of us have shied away in the past from throwing things, screaming obscenities, and breaking furniture. So just be aware that when I imply an impending war, I'm not being THAT dramatic.

Things are complicated between the two of us…

We've lived together for about two years now.

I showed up on his doorstep, (well his, Winston, and Schmidt's doorstep if we're being specific about it) with a broken heart and a fresh out look on life. And while most of my two years with the guys have been fine and dandy (they really have become three of the most important people in my life)...it hasn't all been high-fives and big smiles. Oh no, there have been some slightly bad, kind of messed up times thrown into that two-year period.

There have also been some confusing times, scary times, and FRUSTRATING TIMES (sexually and not so sexually).

I've experienced it all,** (I LIVE WITH THREE MEN. THREE HORNY, INAPPROPRIATE, CRAZY, VERY VERY MALE MEN...THINK ABOUT IT)**…

But really, if I'm being honest, then I'll have to admit, the good does outweigh the bad.

….Mostly...

Except lately...not so much.

Lately things have just gotten weird.

You see,_ **him**,_ and me, we've always toed that line, danced around that edge, skirted around that **EVER-PRESENT** **TEMPTATION.**

And lately I just know, I can FEEL in my bones, that it's going to end soon.

Normal nit picking (or fighting), odd looks, accidental (or not so accidental) brushing and touching of bodies aside, the real trouble started two months ago…

Two months ago, I called the girl he was sleeping with (or in kinder terms girlfriend) Shanna, a slut.

**TO HER FACE**!

Sigh. Shake head. Frown. Kick the ground.

I'm not proud of using that language. Really, I'm not that kind of person. I like to pride myself on being kind and considerate, and I hate when women (or anyone for that matter) call each other derogatory names. I'm all for girl power, feminism, and all that good stuff…

But here's the thing, she really was just flat-out acting like a slut. There was absolutely no way around it.

How do you sugar-coat that anyway?

And on top of her obviously promiscuous behavior with a handful of other men that were most definitely **NOT HER BOYFRIEND** (SCHMDIT EVEN POINTED IT OUT…SCHMIDT!) she was treating him so horribly. Demanding he buy her things he couldn't afford, not allowing him to hang-out with his friends, **SAYING AWFUL AND UNTRUE THINGS ABOUT YOURS TRULY**.

And the worst thing was...**HE WAS LETTING HER**.

This girl was bad, terrible, horrible…worse than what Winston and Schmidt and I had dubbed the **ULTIMATE EX**…Caroline. So fed up one night, I simply told her what I thought of her and I may or may not have (may) used the term slut, while also standing very close to her and waving my arms around like a wild and crazy, howling banshee.

He pulled me away, physically pulled me away, from her and sent me to my room (yeah I know), before things really got interesting.

Apparently she left the apartment in a huff and I haven't seen her since.

Fortunately (unfortunately according to him) he hasn't seen her either.

And despite anything he says that states otherwise I am almost **POSITIVE** that he was relieved to see her go. But we still fought that night. Big time. Like, faces mere inches from each other, chests heaving, and pulses racing fought.

I'm talking— I want to either kill you or hate fuc—well hate **YOU KNOW'**… fought.

Thinking back on the incident, maybe I sound kinda psycho; maybe I totally deserved his wrath, because...who does that? To be fair I **CRINGED** after the words left my mouth...but I was so far gone on my rant, I couldn't stop myself. It was like word vomit, the insults kept coming and there was nothing I could do to stop them. So I admit it, I was possibly out of line, but the thing is—it's not just me that shows somewhat jealous-like, completely out of character, tendencies when it comes to our significant others.

**FOR EXAMPLE…**

A couple of weeks after the name calling incident, he FAILED to inform me that my date had arrived earlier than expected (I was in the shower) and the selfish jerk (that was my first date in weeks) never offered to let him in. Just simply told **MY EXTREMELY-ATTRACTIVE-I-PROBABLY-WOULDN'T-HAVE-GOTTEN-OUT-OF-BED-FOR-DAYS-AFTER-SPENDING-THE-NIGHT-WITH-HIM DATE**, I wasn't available, and slammed the door in his face.

**Pause for effect- **I was informed of this entire scenario sometime after I got out of the shower (with freshly shaven legs and a cute dress in mind), via angry texts from my would have been date for the night. Needless to say, he decided it was better we stop talking...mentioned something about the psycho angry ex-boyfriend I live with. Sadly enough, hot would-have-been-date guy is not the first person to assume that we've dated before.

I was much more adult about this incident though. No angry words, or flailing limbs. No way. I had gotten my act together and was way too mature for that.

I stayed cool as a cucumber.

I simply didn't talk to him for a week afterwards.

Let me tell you, this is much harder than it sounds when you live with the person with whom you are giving the silent treatment to. Cece and I one time didn't talk to each other for a few days in high school, but really it wasn't **THAT **big of a deal. I mean, I didn't live with her so I never had to ask someone else to ask her if she had drank all of my vanilla soy milk (which I know **_he_** did during this particular fight, because soy gives Schmidt heartburn and Winston just thinks it's weird).

Eventually he wore me down though.

He left me chocolates on my pillow one night like that would make up for his completely inexcusable behavior.

I refused to back down **right away** though.

I forgave him exactly a day and a half later. Really, I would have liked to have waited a couple more days but the chocolates were delicious and I **REALLY** needed to know where he got them. So I caved, and we began side stepping around those boundaries once again.

And so we're almost to that breaking point…

**THE TENSION CONTINUES TO BUILD...**

And last week he walked in on me while I was wearing only my bra and underwear. He had a question about boiling spaghetti noodles (even though the directions are on the box) and barged into my room **WITHOUT KNOCKING.**

**Another distracting note-THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE! **Except I may have been the one to barge in on him and he may have been caught dancing naked, and while this time around I wasn't dancing naked or doing deep lunges or anything crazy like that, just innocently standing there...well...it was still AWKWARD.

We really didn't say much. I screamed, he stared, I stared, he blushed, I blushed, he stuttered, I stuttered, and then he left and I locked the door and self completed while fantasizing about how exactly I wished that little scenario would have ended.

**SPOILER ALERT ABOUT AFOREMENTIONED FANTASY:** HE WOULDN'T HAVE LEFT!

And then there was yesterday.

Yesterday, he made a snide comment about how much I've been going out lately and how late I've been staying out; making inappropriate implications about the douche-bag company I most likely keep when with Cece and her model friends (he's not wrong). Still, I didn't appreciate his tone, or the judging look on his face, so I made it a point to go out with Cece and company again tonight.

**Yet another note**—it makes no sense to talk to a handful of douchebags to spite someone, when that person isn't even there to notice you are spiting him.

So all of this finally brings me back to the present, with my hand on the doorknob, completely and fully aware that he's waiting for me on the other side. Waiting to go another round...only this may be the round to end all rounds, because like I implied before I can **FEEL** a shift, or a change, or **SOMETHING **approaching.

Whether it will be good or bad, well, now that is something I'm unsure of. But I'm ready for it, I think. In a way I'm kinda craving it. We've both always known it was coming.

From day one it was coming.

**The Ultimate Showdown of Jessica Day and Nicholas Miller.**

Snigger, smirk, giggle, snort, feet shuffle, lip bite.

Yeah it was bound to happen.

So it's with a little sigh and maybe the slightest bit of hesitation (and yes the Final Countdown lyrics playing in my head) that I finally open the door to the loft.

* * *

**I told you I wasn't sure what this was. **

**But it made me smile, and I look forward to playing around with Jess and Nick's Ultimate Showdown in a tongue and cheek kinda way ;)**


	2. And So It Begins

**Thanks everyone for your reviews, alerts, and favorites! I appreciate the feedback so much. I know this is an odd approach at a story, and different from anything I've written but like I mentioned it's more tongue in cheek than anything and I'm so pleased it's been so well received! **

**On a side, thanks so much for the PMs (I always write PMS at first which never fails in causing me to giggle like an 11-year old) inquiring about my Nick Miller Injury crisis, just a little bump in the road hopefully but still putting me in a slightly snarky mood nonetheless. No worries though, one day Slow Burn will be completed! **

**Until then...here's the next chapter of...hmmm still not sure WHAT exactly this is ;)  
**

**Please review!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own New Girl.**

* * *

"Your home late."

Shut door. Deep breath. Eyes close. Eyes open.

Glancing over at him, I shrug, trying my hardest to appear nonchalant.

**Side note:** I'm not really sure how one "appears" nonchalant when their heart is beating at a million beats per minute…BUT in my case, I try to smooth my features into an expression that hopefully resembles utter and total boredom. However, I can feel my lips tremble and my cheeks are unnaturally hot…so I'm afraid my attempt at casualness might (most likely) all be in vain. **End side note.**

As predicted he's sitting on the couch, in front of the TV, beer in hand.

"I was having fun." I say bringing my focus back to his greeting while staring at his slightly slumped figure.

He won't even spare a look in my direction, and this** BOTHERS** me...for some reason I want to make eye contact. _**I CRAVE IT. **_Nick's eyes are very revealing; like me, he's not good at hiding his emotions. But instead of turning his gaze towards me, he merely shakes his head and chuckles; it's a dark sound and it echoes a bit as he lowers his lips to his beer bottle, taking a long swig of that God-awful devil's brew.

**Immediately my back goes up. **

**Another side note:** I don't like to be laughed at… _**especially NOT by him**_…not when it's that deep sarcastic laugh. That laugh that makes my blood boil and **SOMETHING **leap to life low in my belly.

"Is that funny?" I ask, wondering a bit if my words are slurred. How much did I drink at the club?

**Drink Recap:** One Washington apple, one lemon-drop, one slightly neglected rum and coke (gag) that was never finished, a beer that was bought for me by the douche bags (and subsequently tossed down the bathroom sink after a couple of sips)…

"I just can't see how you can have fun with a group _**like that."**_

**END DRINK RECAP.**

Sighing, I slip out of my heels and shoot him a glare while walking past the living room and into the kitchen. Water, I need water. It's suddenly very important for me to hydrate before **World War Three **commences. Briefly I wonder if Winston or Schmidt are home. Secretly, I hope they aren't…

Because I'm really not sure how (or where) this is going to end.

"I'm really getting sick of the way you talk about Cece and her friends, Nick." I raise my voice a bit so he can hear me from the living room and opening the fridge, grab a bottle of water from the top shelf.

"Not Cece." He speaks it softly, his voice near my ear.

The sound of it startles me and I jump (almost hitting my head on the dang refrigerator door in the process).

I scowl; angry and embarrassed with him for sneaking up on me. The jerk…acting all silent and stealth like. Who does that in the middle of the night anyway? Sneaking up on people…honestly…**that's how people get hurt.**

Turning, I take a moment to collect myself, and closing the fridge, raise my eyebrows. As I face him, I try to put some distance between us, doing a funny little side step in the process and wincing a bit as my back hits the counter.

He's close.

Too close.

**DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!**

Alarm bells go off as his close proximity registers and the familiar scent of Old Spice invades my nose.

"Not Cece?" I ask with a shake of my head, trying my best to clear it.

When he doesn't answer right away, I look up at him and **_immediately_** regret it, because those dark eyes, the ones that I had been wishing were looking at me only moments ago, are now zeroed in on **yours truly**. And suddenly my knees feel a bit weak and my throat goes dry.

Opening my water, I hurriedly bring it to my lips and take a quick sip, enjoying the cooling effect it has on my throat.

"Cece actually has a brain and a personality." He says in a flat tone. "We get along fine _Jessica_, it's not _her_ that confuses me...it's the _other ones_. All high heels and flashy clothes...not much going on up here." He points to his head and shrugs. "And who the hell knows what they attract...hell, I've actually _seen_ what they attract...I just don't get how either of you can stand them."

**SERIOUSLY**—When he calls me _Jessica,_ my stomach tends to do little flip-flops, and my body tingles in this completely _inappropriate_ way...but that's BESIDES the point...

**FOCUS!**

I bring my attention back to his words and manage a smirk.

_**Because honestly what he said...SO TYPICAL!**_

The guys have been drooling over Cece's friends for years now, but apparently… as currently implied by one Nicholas Miller…they are only good as eye candy and nothing more.

And **YES** I realize he is about 90% right— they really don't have much to offer when it comes to the brains and personality departments..and they do attract an interesting crowd, i.e.- douches ...but he's barely ever said more than two words to any of them (it has to be kinda hard considering _his mouth is dropped open in a gawking manner anytime he's around them_) to form such an opinion.

Suddenly I can feel my temper flaring up. Silently I reassure myself it's because I'm annoyed by his judgmental tone, his condescending behavior.

**UNFORTUNATE TRUTH:** Deep down I'm totally aware it's because I dislike thinking about him drooling over attractive model types**. I mean come on!**

"How would you know what kind of personalities they have Nicholas...whether they are smart or not? You've never said more than a few words to them…you're too busy staring and drooling all over them anytime they're around to pay any attention to what they are saying. Heck, you're so busy gawking, you barely pay attention to _anyone else_ for that matter—err I mean anything…_**anything **_else for that matter." I mutter, quite aware of my obvious mistake, crinkling my nose as my voice wavers with it.

Tilting my head to the side, I sigh inwardly. Alright…

So I'm totally going the jealous route.

**DAMNIT!**

Hating to back down to him though, I hold his eyes. Those stupid poop colored eyes (that really resemble dark chocolate _so much more_ than feces) and raise a brow, challenging him, pretending my words didn't totally sound like those of a wary girlfriend.

We stare at each other for a moment or two.

Hearts pound. Eyes flash. Fists clench. Fists unclench.

He sighs. It sounds defeated…he looks drained, and I pause for a moment…

This isn't how **World War Three**, is supposed to go. This is the part where he defends himself while insulting me, leading me to insult him back. And then as our words get more heated, we get closer; he gets in my face, I get in his face, and then…

Well I haven't gotten that far in my visions of **World War Three.**

**News Flash:** That is a complete and total lie. Usually my version of how **World War Three** ends, involves a lot of heavy panting, some screaming, a whole heck of a lot of touching…oh hell to be completely honest— both of us are totally one hundred percent naked.

He smirks; causing me to flinch involuntarily, like there's the possibility that he may have just read my mind. But _that's just silly,_ and I tell myself as much as I watch him run a hand down his face while muttering something under his breath...his words become muffled by his palm making it near impossible for me to understand him...not that I'm fully paying attention to trying to decipher his words anyway.

**Quick note to self:** Do not think of _naked Nick _**under any circumstances...World War Three or otherwise...**when _fully clothed Nick_ is standing if front of you, looking slightly desperate, somewhat angry, and sexy as all get up.

"What did you say?" I ask him, forcing my thoughts away from _naked Nick_, and back to his mutterings.

"I said, is this how it's going to go tonight?"

"I don't understand." I tell him, feeling honestly confused and ignoring the clenching of my stomach.

**Real quick: **Can we just take a minute here to figure out **WHAT IS GOING ON?** Honestly…Why aren't we shouting yet? Why aren't we fighting? Why isn't Winston coming out and telling us to shut up? **WHAT IS HAPPENING? **

**AND **_**SERIOUSLY…**_**WHY THE HELL DOES HE LOOK SO DAMNED SAD?!**

"Is this how it's going to go? We're going to fight over Cece's friends, and you're going to pretend to be insulted even though you know I'm right—" He holds up a hand when I open my mouth to protest and _**because I'm feeling kind**_, I let him continue. "And then as the argument escalates…we'll go off on some tangent and before you know it, we're both screaming and shouting over each other, and then depending on who gets the last word in, someone gets hurt, so naturally more insults are dished out and there you go...we're not talking to each other by the end of the night— all the while avoiding what's really going on…what has been going on for two damned years now Jess."

He takes two steps closer to me as he says this, and really, I would take two steps back but the solid feel of the counter at my behind reminds me I have nowhere to go. I panic a bit at this…but no matter how hard I press my back into it, the darn thing **refuses to budge.**

"What's really going on?" My mouth asks before my brain can tell it to **SHUT UP!**

He smiles, that sad smile— it makes my heart break a little and my fingers itch to touch him.

**Side note:** I've always kinda thought Nick Miller resembles a Pound Puppy. With those big brown eyes and that slightly lost look to him... **Another side Note within a side note**: I've always been a sucker for puppies.** End notes.**

He reaches out and tugs on a loose strand of hair drawing my eyes to him and _**effectively stopping my heart.**_

"Do you really have to ask Jess? It's been two years, how much longer are we going to dance around this...because I'm getting damned tired of it and I have a feeling you are too." He pauses, and chuckles softly...apparently there's some joke here that I'm not in on. "Do you really have to ask?" He says again, quietly but insistently.

Swallow. Catch breath. Close eyes. Open eyes. _Breathe._

"I—I don't know what you're talking about." I whisper, and I wince a bit as my voice comes out raspy and low.

**LONG DRAWN OUT PAUSE.**

I look down not knowing what else to do…I can't meet his eyes;** I won't meet his eyes**. But then suddenly some force beyond my control, demands I look back up at him, pushes me to do so, and before I can stop myself, I'm lost in the swirling depths of deep dark brown.

And his slightly smug smile still tinged with sadness is the last thing that my brain fully registers before he slowly leans towards me, his intent, and purpose written all over that devastatingly attractive (it's the scruff I'm a sucker for the scuff) face of his.

_**He's going to kiss me.**_

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**Thank you kindly for reading!  
**

**See that review box? Why don't you drop me a note and let me know what you think. Like it or hate it? Annoying or amusing? Do you just want Slow Burn back? AKA please review! Thank you!  
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	3. So This Is It

_**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. I appreciate it tons! _

_Slow Burn update coming soooon! Until then, enjoy this!_

_Please read and REVIEW! :)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own New Girl._

* * *

"**Are you drunk?"**

The words are out of my mouth, whispered mere inches from his lips, before I can stop them, and in my mind's eye I can see a little picture of myself, stomping my feet and pulling my hair while yelling obscenities at…well myself…because _**WHY OH WHY DID I JUST OPEN MY BIG FAT MOUTH?!**_

Nick pulls back a little; surprise and slight amusement evident on his face. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smirk, and with that crooked little grin, I can feel my heart begin to hammer even more painfully against my chest.

**Note:** Nick Miller's little half smiles might be my biggest weakness…my Achilles heel if you will…because **COME ON **_the man looks sexy as heck with a hint of a smile flashing across that unshaven dark face of his._

Breathe. Focus. Inhale. Exhale. Focus. Breathe. FOCUS!

With a short and somewhat hoarse laugh, he backs up a half step and peers down at me. I can feel the heat in my cheeks grow hotter under his quiet observation (those darn mocha colored eyes), and almost unconsciously I begin to push my body into the counter at my back again, _willing_ it to budge…because I'm definitely still standing way too close to my absurdly attractive roommate, but the darn thing**_ still_** won't move…the sucker really is solidly in place.

"Are _**you**_ drunk _Jessica_?"

Have I mentioned the completely inappropriate way my body tingles when he calls me Jessica? Let's not even talk about the way he just said it now. All low and raspy, there's the slightest bit of wanting in his voice, and I shake my head a bit at the thought, because it has to be my mind playing tricks on me.

But then again…

He had been about to kiss me…I'm sure of it…

_"It's been two years, how much longer are we going to dance around this...because I'm getting damned tired of it and I have a feeling you are too..."_

My mind replays his words, over and over, cruelly taunting me with them.

He HAD been about to kiss me._  
_

_**I'm not making it up.**_

With the leaning towards me, the dark eyes narrowed in concentration, the desire written plain as day across that scruffy face of his and…

_**AND **_then I had to go and _**OPEN MY BIG FAT STUPID MOUTH.**_

**Unfortunate Observation About a Certain Miss Jessica Day AKA Me: **I sometimes have _the worst_ timing (obviously). My mouth and brain don't always communicate very well. My mouth kinda has a mind of its own…often it starts talking and rambling and many times my brain is left feeling neglected, like my mouth should have consulted it first. And more often than not, my brain is in the right, and my mouth is just being plain selfish.

Then again I do have the tendency to over-analyze stuff; drawing things out and thinking them to death…

Like now…

My mouth is itching to speak but I'm too caught up in pondering over whether Nick had been about to kiss me or not, and how stupid my mouth can be, and whether my brain is always in the right and—

_**And I should say something.**_

Chewing on my lip, I sneak a peek up through my bangs and take a quick look at him, carefully assessing him as I do. He's looking at me funny; his eyes are narrowed and they're searching my face, like he's trying to figure me out, like he's trying to get a good read on me, like he's unsure how to proceed…

…**_OR_**… like I've grown another head or something.

It's getting somewhat uncomfortable. My mouth, which is rarely silent for extended periods of time, has been quiet for a bit longer than necessary, the tension is growing and the air is thick and charged and—

_**SPEAK!**_ My brain screams.

"N-n-no. I'm perfectly sober. The soberest. I—I was just asking if you were drunk because…it's just that you are standing awfully close, and you get kinda touchy when you drink…not in a bad way though, just in a not so normal and sober Nick Miller kind of way…and I know you're not touching me now, seeing as though your hands are at your sides, but you—you were tugging on my hair before, and that seemed kinda like something drunk Nick would do…and—and you are kinda in my personal space, so I figured—oh he must be drunk. And don't call me _Jessica_…"

Okay, so, I'm perfectly and well aware that I'm rambling.

**So is he…**aware of my rambling that is;_ I can tell._

His face is kinda soft and his eyes are dark and gentle. And good God in heaven help me—he's smiling that little half-smile _again_...and I'm a goner.

**_GONER._**

"I'm actually sober." He says, in a quietly amused voice. "The soberest."

I nod at that, feeling slightly stupid at my lack of wit. "That's good. Sobriety. Yay for drinking in moderation."

_**What?!**_

**Side note:** Apparently I'm beyond the point of making any sense at all.

He laughs at me then. It's a low and deep sound and I'm pretty sure I'm about to go into cardiac arrest, because even though he hasn't touched me…_yet_…the atmosphere around us is so charged with electricity—(two years_**, two years**_ of pent-up emotions, of sexual tension, of just wanting to jump the guy's bones)— that I feel as if I'm bound to keel over with the shock of it at any second.

That,_** AND **_I'm totally a girly-girl, and let's be honest, I'm standing _**alone**_ in a _**dark **_kitchen, _with a_ _guy I may or may not __**(MAY!)**__ have intense feelings _for, _and __**he's looking at me as if he just wants to devour me whole…**_

So like I said before…_**I'm a goner.**_

**Truth:** Nick Miller could do anything to me at this moment…_**ANYTHING**_…he could do a number of delicious and filthy and unspeakable acts to me…and I wouldn't stop him.

I. WOULDN'T. EVEN. TRY.

**Side note to aforementioned truth**: I'm totally okay with admitting this right now..._I think._

"Jess?" He says my name softly, laughter flitting at the edges of it.

Okay, so the problem with internally admitting that I would be perfectly content if the guy standing in front of me started ravishing my body, is, now my brain keeps picturing_ IT;_ which in turn has caused my pulse to start racing and my head to feel dizzy, as the images taunt me, flashing before my eyes in graphic detail.

"_Jess_?" His voice, while still slightly amused, is laced with exasperation; I seem to have that effect on him a lot.

"Hmm…what? Are you hot? I'm hot. Weren't we trying to have a fight before? Cece's friends—you were insulting them…let's get back to that. My throat is dry...I need water. Waaaaterrr! Yeah water would be good right about now."

_**OH COME ONNNN!  
**_

Seriously? Seriously. Who is this blubbering idiot?_**  
**_

_**Jessica Day...that's who.  
**_

My hands shake as I bring the water bottle to my lips, taking a quick sip, I sigh inwardly as my fumbling words ring out in the silent loft.

I don't make any sense; _**I haven't made sense all night long.**_

It's _embarrassing._**  
**

And while I'm well aware that many times he looks at me, for no reason at all, as if my head is in the clouds, as if I just came shooting down on a bright and shiny rainbow, as if forest creatures will come pouncing out of my room at any moment—(which is so frustrating, because really, can't a girl like to wear bright colors and sing and dance without being sneered at)—however, right now, at this moment,**_ even I have to admit that I sound absurd, ludicrous, slightly crazy..._  
**

My only excuse is that I've been harboring these ridiculous _FEELINGS_ for him for two years and it's all just recently started spiraling out of control. I mean, he's not doing anything remarkably sexy— (okay let's be honest I'm at the point where he could breathe and I'd find it hot)—but honestly, he's not saying anything even remotely shocking, he hasn't made any big statements...heck he's barely touched me! But yet here I am, standing in front of him, acting like a fool…I've completely lost the ability to form a coherent thought…let alone sentence.

And to be honest…it's getting awkward.

"Okay, this is ridiculous." He states, confirming my fears.

_He thinks I'm a nut-job._

But before I can say anything, he leans forward and grabbing the water bottle from my hand, reaches over and places it next to me on the counter. His hand stays planted firmly next to me, gripping the edge of the counter, half caging me in, and immediately my eyes widen in surprise and dart to my free side, only, his eyes follow mine and seemingly realizing that I could still flee, he places his free hand on the other side of me and suddenly…

**I'M TRAPPED.**

Arms brush. Eyes widen. Pulses race. Blink once. Blink twice.

_Breathe._

"Wha—what are you doing?" I ask, completely aware of the slight shakiness in my voice.

He raises a brow at me, almost looking surprised, as if I should know the answer to that question. "I'm going to kiss you Jess."

**OH. MY. GOD.**

"No—no you're not. We were arguing. We have to finish arguing. That's what we do. We—we argue. We argue and we get mad at each other and then we cool down and we're friends again and then eventually something happens and we argue again. That's how we work. You—you said so yourself. Kinda. And we're not done tonight…we haven't even really started. THIS IS NOT HOW **WORLD WAR THREE** IS SUPPOSED TO GO NICK! So—so let's go. Let's finish. You first..." The words pour out of my mouth in a rush, I can't help it, I feel shaky, panicked.

_**HE'S TOO CLOSE!**_

His body is just barely brushing mine; the space between us is so incredibly small and I'm on sensory overload; the heat from our bodies, the spiciness of his scent, the coolness of his breath...it's _intoxicating_. I want so badly to lean towards him, to rest my head against his chest_**, because it's right there**_, right in front of me, looking all solid and sturdy; and my head is reeling with fuzzy thoughts and his chest seems like a good place to put it for a while. And I think maybe, just maybe, if I lean over and lay my head there, he might wrap his arms around me and hold me. He might just let me forget for a minute that I'm supposed to be mad at him for his slightly insulting words from before, that I'm supposed to be fully engaged in **World War Three,** that I'm supposed to pretend that I am absolutely NOT attracted to him.**  
**

More importantly maybe he'll let me forget that I'm supposed to be his friend, that I'm supposed to think of him as that, _a friend only_, and nothing more.

BUT he already said he was going to kiss me and with that statement, all that _friend_ crap that I've been holding onto **_so tightly for years now_**...out of fear, _real fear of losing him_, of ruining what I have with him...just flew out the window.

"We weren't arguing Jess. Not really." Glancing up at that, I immediately get lost in his eyes. And in those dark brown orbs, I see so much gentle affection and such absolute tenderness, laced with the tiniest bit of apprehension and sadness, that it shocks me. But before I can comment on it, he's speaking again. "I was about to kiss you before...and you, being _you_, interrupted me. So I'm warning you, right now..._I'm going to kiss you_. Because for the last two damned years I've wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to shut you up by kissing you senseless, until you forgot exactly what it was you were going on and on about, until you _**just stopped talking**_ and-kissed me back. So I'm going to do that, _right now_, and damnit if you don't want me to, _tell me..._tell me _**no**_, tell me to stop, say something…_anything_…because if you don't…then fuck it… I'm going to kiss you."

He sounds somewhat desperate and I wonder if he secretly wants me to say no, to try to talk some reason into him. I wonder, if like me, he's aware that once we kiss, once we cross that line…_**THERE'S NO GOING BACK.**_

And maybe I should stop him, maybe I should reach up between us and push at his chest, maybe I should quietly tell him good-night; give our heads time to clear…

Maybe I should just let us stay friends, friends who have been dancing around this crazy, messed up, insanely frustrating _thing_ for way too long now.

Maybe, maybe, maybe….

**Newsflash:** Maybe stopping him…stopping him at all, even just a little bit…**not gonna happen.**

I see a flicker of doubt flash across his face at my silence and then almost as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced with desire and longing and finally _acceptance_…

…and then I'm gone, really and truly gone. Even the few remotely coherent thoughts still left in my brain, flee in a hurry, and left in their wake is complete and utter blankness…

Because he's leaning towards me slowly, there's a confidence in him that wasn't there only moments ago.

And really...the time for making observations is over.

Fingers brush. Hearts pound. Lips part. Eyes close. Breathe in. Breathe out.

_Breathe._

Nick Miller is going to kiss me.

And this time...I'm going to let him.

_FINALLY._

* * *

**UGH! I know what a way to end it huh?**

**Your reviews would make me happy._  
_**


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